


Two is Company, Three is a Crowd

by Shtare



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, Cognitive Dissonance, Dark Neil Josten, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, POV Andrew Minyard, Personality Swap, Protective Andrew Minyard, Psychological Trauma, Sassy Neil Josten, Unreliable Narrator, andriel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 17:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shtare/pseuds/Shtare
Summary: Andrew spent his childhood shielding his brother from the worst the system had to offer. Andrew went juvie for protecting Aaron from Drake and he was medicated for avenging Nicky. Andrew agreed to play for Palmetto in order to provide Aaron and Nicky with an education - saving Kevin from his abusers was a bonus.Andrew would do more for Neil.Neil is a little broken and a lot more messed up than the average Fox.Andrew is going to pick him up piece by piece.Andriel Andrew POV





	Two is Company, Three is a Crowd

Neil didn’t know how he escaped. One minute he was chained to the basement floor and the next he was running barefoot down the highway. All bloody feet and exercise shorts. Alone, cold, and carrying nothing of value, it was easy for Neil to decide to give up. 

The next time he woke up, Neil was lying on a hardwood floor in a foreclosed house and all he could think about was Exy. 

Without Mom to keep him sane, Neil would get caught sooner rather than later. He knew it. The way Neil figured, if he was going to die, he might as well play while he has the chance. 

Millport was his best option. The Exy team was so bad Neil knew they wouldn’t make it to the championships and Neil wouldn’t have to worry about being seen. He was forced to switch positions and play as a striker but it was worth the trade-off to be on the court. Learning a new position gave him something to focus on other than his impending death. 

So intent was Neil that he forgot to check his speed. Neil felt the man’s eyes fall on him with suspicion. The sound of Mom’s voice came to him then, telling him off for being stupid and drawing attention. She was right. Neil’s days were significantly numbered and getting shorter. 

Neil just wanted to play Exy.

He didn’t have anything else. 

So Neil played. He spent hours and hours practicing. The more he practiced, the more he started losing time. Without Mom to remark on the difference, Neil didn’t notice the ever-increasing holes in his memory. The way the days got shorter. He had his time on the court and that was what mattered to him. If he had no memory of falling asleep in the abandoned house, he was just exhausted after practice. Neil was having trouble keeping track of the days, but he didn’t worry about it. It didn’t matter because he had nowhere to be. 

Neil was pretty sure it was Friday when Coach Hernandez led his funeral straight to him. Andrew Minyard and Kevin Day were like specters in black - the Exy stick in Andrew’s hand was a scythe aiming to cut Neil in half. It was an apropos metaphor.

The next thing Neil knew, he signed the contract and had a plane ticket to the other side of the country. 

It wasn’t too hard to justify bad decisions with his inevitable death. He might as well enjoy himself in his last year. If his father didn’t find him before the end of the season, Neil would turn state’s evidence and wait to testify or be killed off, whichever came first. 

Neil hated Hernandez. The coach was trying to help, but Neil didn’t ask for his help. There was something uniquely shitty about outing someone and calling it helpful. Neil was on a plane to South Carolina when the papers ran the news of the botched home invasion that killed Millport’s beloved coach, Michael Hernandez. 

Neil leaned against the airplane window, trying to hide the reluctant spread of his father’s vicious smile.

* * *

“So?” 

“So, what?” Andrew asked his brother, his face communicating exactly how much he couldn't actually read his twin's mind. He had a guess, but he could be wrong. It was bound to happen at some point.

_“So,” _Aaron stressed, “what are we going to do about Josten?”

_“We_ aren’t doing anything," Andrew said in light mockery "you re going to get Josten from the airport for me and I’ll take care of the rest,” Andrew said, giving his twin a look that translated _ for me _ into _ as me._ Andrew knew better than to say anything about his agenda aloud. It was easy enough to keep the moving parts from liking each other long enough to interact, and when push came to shove, Aaron was the one that got taken to the floor. When they were kids, Aaron gave up because he was too soft-hearted to hurt Andrew, even when Aaron flew into a rage because Andrew provoked him with a harmless joke in bad taste. Growing up as identical siblings in the tender care of the State gave new meaning to the phrase _ us against the world. _ It couldn't apply more aptly to two brothers who knew each other inside and out, so completely, that they sometimes wondered where one of them began and the other ended. At some point, the differences between "Andrew" and "Aaron" became a caricature to shield them from the scrutiny of others. If people thought you were predictable, that they were smarter than you, it was almost too easy to get anyway with just about anything under the sun. 

Including murder. 

Growing up without anyone or anything to rely on except each other taught Andrew and Aaron countless precious life lessons. The foremost being, _ don't say what you mean but always mean what you say. _ Aaron knew that Andrew wanted him to do, but he didn't know why. Aaron figured out the futility of asking questions a long time ago, but bless his heart, Aaron was obstinate to the end. Too bad Andrew had more endurance out of the two of them. In a battle of wills, where Aaron's unstoppable force met Andrew's immovable object, Aaron always backed down first. They were three years old the first time Aaron surrendered to Andrew in a wrestling match on the dirty linoleum floor of a camper in that trailer park under the highway. Andrew knew then what their roles needed to be if they were going to survive. It was with Aaron that Andrew made his first deal; a bully's broken nose in exchange for a coveted, if expired, chocolate pudding cup they'd been saving from a previous, more generous foster home. Andrew became Aaron's shield and sword, his protector, and his avenger. Aaron would be Andrew's scapegoat, his perpetual alibi, his get-out-of-jail-free-card. Fortunately, you only need an alibi if you got caught and Andrew knows how to avoid police attention after years of living out of a garbage bag in the most crime-ridden sections of South Carolina. Unfortunately for Andrew, he made Aaron's deal too easy, and now his brother was comfortable getting mouthy when he wasn't let in on the plan. 

Andrew raised a single eyebrow, reluctantly impressed. It had been a long while since Aaron challenged him in public. Granted, Kevin and Nicky barely counted as public, but Aaron cared too much about their opinions, as he did about everyone's view of him. 

Especially Andrew's. Andrew had always been stingy with words of affirmation, or, words in general, and in his reticence, he unintentionally made his brother a whiny little bitch, desperately needy for attention and validation. But like most dogs, Aaron was all bark and no bite. All it took was five seconds of straight-faced, sustained eye contact and Aaron folded like a cheap deck of cards. It was almost embarrassing. Andrew would have mocked his brother, but Aaron made it too easy. Low hanging fruit was meant for the insects.

Aaron rolled his eyes, but he had to have known something along these lines was coming down the pipe. Andrew didn't cut his hair on a whim. 

Andrew also didn’t think his little love tap in Millport was very intimidating to Neil Josten.

What kind of freak smiled after getting pummeled in the stomach sans pads? 

Josten. Josten was that kind of freak

Andrew wondered if Neil would still be smiling when he had a bruise the size and shade of an eggplant branding his sternum from Andrew's blow. If nothing else, hitting Neil served to spell out the pecking order at Palmetto, just in case Neil was as much of a dumbass as Andrew suspected. As long as Neil Josten didn’t present a problem, Andrew would leave him alone. Otherwise, Neil Josten would be dealt with in an immediate and permanent fashion.

“And the rest would be — what exactly?”

“You’ll see, little brother.” 

Renee always liked a project and Neil seemed plenty fucked up to need fixing. 

Andrew remembered the sick, predatory smile that carved Neil face in half that day in Millport. It almost seemed like he was trying not to laugh, like Andrew tickled him instead of leaving a big ass bruise. Masochist at the very least and potentially a sadist with a sense of humor. Either way, a problem for Andrew and the Foxes slightly toxic status quo. 

A diverting problem. A handsome, mysterious thorn in Andrew’s side. 

An interesting Rubik's cube to fill the time between practice and class.

“Well, you don’t have to be an asshole about it,” Aaron whined, capitulating as Andrew intended.

Andrew didn’t have time to explain every nuance of his plan to Aaron, and his brother was not as smart or subtle as he thought he was. Andrew thought his plan was pretty obvious by that point. He was going to keep their stupid asses alive whether they liked it or not.

* * *

The biggest problem with being short was how close Andrew had to sit to the steering wheel. Andrew was above the indignity of lowering his steering wheel and he wasn’t about to deface his wildly expensive luxury SUV with a screw-on pedal expander. 

Andrew sat in the car with Aaron, Kevin, and Nicky and waited for Wymack to show up at the court like they always did in preparation for breaking into his apartment. Nicky was legal, but stealing Coach’s stash was better than buying their own. That, and he needed alcohol to cushion his plummet off the cliff of his uppers when he went cold-turkey. 

Andrew peaked out of the parking lot and made short work of the drive to Wymack’s nearby bachelor pad. 

Even better, Neil was alone and vulnerable, in a new environment with new people and not a support system in sight. Andrew pegged him as a runner from the start, and he was curious to see how spooked Neil would have to get spooked and bolt. 

Unfortunately for Andrew, Kevin couldn’t stop singing Neil’s praises almost as often as he cursed Neil’s failures. Kevin's tiny little Exy-filled world now had a bright new star in the sky called Neil Josten, and when Kevin fixated on something, it was difficult to shut him up. Andrew was pleasantly surprised by Neil's effect on Kevin. When Kevin was yelling at Neil or seething at him in silent fury, he wasn't on the verge of panic. Kevin's spanic attacks lessened by half after Neil was signed. Neil was the only person Kevin considered worthy of being on his team - other than Andrew. 

Andrew was only concerned with how worthy Neil was of trust. 

Aaron picked the lock into Coach’s place. David took Kevin’s key back when he realized Andrew was exploiting the privilege. Luckily for Andrew, Aaron was a thief before he was an addict. 

Neil was surprised when they came into the apartment. Andrew instructed Aaron and Nicky to speak in German exclusively around Neil long before the striker set foot on campus. Hopefully, it would make him uncomfortable. Andrew was fine retrieving the liquor and leaving Neil to Kevin’s less than tender mercies. Andrew was slightly disturbed by the manic gleam in Neil’s eyes — but he was distracted by the contacts - a little ring of shadow a centimeter or so from the edge of the iris. Andrew noticed the opaque, assembly-line consistency of the brown shade. Andrew re-evaluated the angsty teenage dye job and combined the two to create a poor disguise. 

Neil was hiding from someone - and very much did not want to be found, or in this case, Andrew suspected, _ caught. _ Neil bristled like a cat pet backward if Andrew so much as looked at him. He was fearful and defiant in equal measure, a paradoxical combination that managed to create a faint spark of curiosity in the back of Andrew's mind. Neil was also annoyingly perceptive, gleaming Andrew’s sobriety and the airport swap. 

“They’re twins but they aren’t the same,” Neil said with such certainty, his shoulders lowering and moving back as his chin tilted up. His eyes took on a menacing, calculating sheen. Neil gritted his teeth in a menacing grimace that chilled Andrew to the bone with the promise of violence. Yes, Neil was far too perceptive for Andrew’s liking. Neil took a step closer, the intended intimidation factor laying in the ease with which he moved, affecting a smooth sort of calm whispered of a snake in the grass. When Neil spoke, his tone was conversational, bordering on conspiratory. The edge of his gran sharped to a painful point. If Andrew wasn't careful, he would cut himself. 

“I swear on your life, if you fuck with me I’ll make you regret it. I will out you to the press, I can see it now," Neil lifted both hands to frame out empty space, waving his arms in emphasis, for maximum theatricality, like an old advertisement from the fifties. "I can see the headlines now: Psychopath Foxes paroled goalkeeper goes off his court-mandated medication," Neil mimicked the whisper-roar of a calamitous crowd, "violence, and terror ensues! How will the NCAA feel about their best goalie coping his meds?”

An insidious little smile played in the corner of Josten’s mouth while he threatened Andrew’s way of life and Kevin’s safety by extension. 

Neil was definitely going to be a problem. 

Except he gave his game to Kevin, which meant he was Andrew’s problem now. 

Terrific.

* * *

It was official - Neil had the cursed luck of the damned. 

Neil had no idea what he did to piss off the Monsters, but clearly something happened when Neil was not around. Aaron and Nicky watched Neil with thinly veiled fear, whispering in German to each other and casting furtive glances at Neil when they thought he wasn’t looking. Kevin’s disdain was nothing new. He rode Neil on the court with the same uncompromising severity that made him the best striker in the game. Neil was getting used to Kevin’s attitude. 

Andrew’s distance, however, was brand new and entirely unexpected. Neil found himself disquieted by the goalkeeper’s sudden change in behavior. The short blonde goalkeeper stayed a minimum safe distance of six feet away from Neil at all times. It was bizarre for someone who blatantly announced his claim to Neil’s secrets. 

Neil didn’t know why Andrew was giving him a break but he was not about to question it. Night practice was unquestionably peaceful without Andrew breathing down Neil’s neck. 

If Neil almost blew out his arms trying to break Andrew’s composure, that was his own business.

* * *

Andrew wished he was right less often. But then again, forewarning never saved anyone from disaster. Disbelief was a hell of a paralytic and it was easier to deny the truth than to face it. 

Running from it was the best option, in most cases. 

Andrew never had the luxury of running away. 

The state was doggedly strict despite not giving a flying fuck about what happened to foster youth. Andrew took the brunt of it to shield Aaron, who went about his life in a state of hateful ignorance caused by his own desire to hide. 

To let Andrew take the fall. 

Breaking into Neil’s paltry belongings was too easy and Neil’s little performance on Andrew’s sobriety was not much of a deterrent. Andrew knew he was all talk. 

Taking a stand required a backbone, of which Neil was sorely lacking.

There was nothing to find except for dirty clothes and a binder full of Raven’s news clippings, hidden away like it was pornography. A boring kink, in Andrew’s opinion, and he was sex-repulsed. Some coded pages went over Andrew’s head. Very curious. He couldn’t begin to piece them together without knowing what to look for. An endless sequence of numbers that could encode anything from a phone number to a bank account number. Not to mention the stacks of cash amounting somewhere around 20 thousand dollars. A sweet chunk of change for someone that cycles the same eight outfits. A suitable amount of money to get a Raven to slum it for a year. Kevin said if they sent someone after him, it would be a freshman, someone unrecognizable. 

It is enough evidence for Andrew to believe Neil was a Raven plant. On the same hand, would a spy sent to reclaim Kevin leave such obvious evidence? Probably not. 

Andrew is sitting in his room, enjoying a cigarette and contemplating desert when his peace is interrupted by a rampaging Josten. The Fox’s new striker barreled across the room with that impressive speed, cursing Andrew in a slew of German too guttural and dialectic for Andrew to completely understand.

Neil shoved his body up and against Andrew., he grabbed a fistful of Andrew’s shirt and promptly pushed him out the window. Andrew made it easier for Neil, having removed the screen to better enjoy the gut-wrenching view. 

Andrew was shocked - he pegged Neil is unbalanced but not violent. Neil’s behavior was so far outside of Andrew’s estimation that his brain had no time or process or react before his upper body was hanging out of the window. Andrew’s hands scrambled against the brick facade lining the outside of the building, the sensation combined with the wind on his back is enough to nearly send Andrew over the edge; heart pounding in his ears, bile rising in the back of his throat. Neil’s grip on Andrew’s shirt was the only thing keeping him from falling to his death. It's a sickening realization. The rest of Andrew's body lay on the raised platform of the desk - level with the window. Andrew was totally horizontal. The barest shift of weight would send him plummeting. 

Neil held Andrew overbalanced and suspended above a seven-story drop, his eyes burning with hellfire. Neil’s upper lip curled back in a sneer full of rage. 

“Touch my shit again and you’ll wish I dropped you.” 

Neil let Andrew hang for a long moment before he dragged Andrew back into the room and dumped him on the carpet. Andrew trembled on his hands and knees while Kevin chased Neil from the room. Aaron crunched next to him but Andrew pushed his brother away. Nicky sat dumbstruck on the couch. 

“Did you get any of that?” Aaron asked the room.

“Some,” Nicky guessed, voice trembling, “it sounded Bavarian.”

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Aaron put a voice to the room’s collective thoughts. 

Josten was definitely dangerous and Andrew needed to figure him out before someone got hurt - or worse.

* * *

Neil should have known better than to think he could just be a Fox and nothing bad would come of it. As it turned out, Kevin was wanted by a crime family as much as his rabid fans. An entire tower at Evermore was dedicated to the mob deals the Moriyama execute. It made sense when Neil thought about it. An unbreakable winning streak was just a little too unbelievable, even for the Ravens. 

The northern district must be ecstatic to lose them. 

But hope springs eternal, for Neil and for every other Ext team in the district.

What’s the point in living, otherwise?

* * *

Andrew watched Neil closely after the window incident. 

He also moved up the timetable on Colombia. 

He planned to break Neil in a little more before actually _ breaking _ him but alas, time waited for no man. 

Neil was a defensive dumbass with pretty blue eyes. Andrew might have known. The cold, icy shade made Andrew the real color of Neil’s hair and if it would suit him better than shitstain brown. He twitched like a rabbit and talked like a turtle as in, not at all. Neil day across from Andrew at Sweeties, tight-lipped and he refused to eat. Righteously judgemental when they picked up the cracker dust. He was like a middle-aged soccer mom with his delicate sensibilities and watchful judgy eyes. He looked half a second from bolting since he got in the car. The clothes didn’t do much to help with the way Neil was trying to disappear into them. 

Neil dragged his feet when they got to the club. It took him so long to get out of the car, he considered throwing Neil over his shoulder. Andrew was on a strict withdrawal timetable and Neil needed to respect that. Andrew had a short window between the disappearing mania and crippling nausea in which he could actually think constructively.

Getting Neil to the bar was easier, but not because he was more freaked out by the pierced and tattooed strangers than the familiar, disliked faces of Andrew’s group. 

Andrew flagged Roland down. It took ages to win Roland over but it was worth it to have an in with the bartender. Roland didn’t blink when Andrew nodded in Neil’s direction. It was easy to lace as soda as a shot glass. Unfortunately for Neil, consent was checked at the door when the safety of Andrew’s family was involved. Andrew almost killed the last man that put hands on his brother. 

Getting the drugs into Neil’s system was like hitting him with an electric shock. The sketchy, fearful Neil that balked at eye contact was lobotomized and replaced with a smiley, sinister version that was ready to eat.

Nicky swept Neil out onto the dancefloor to get the drugs moving and to keep him occupied while Andrew blew Roland in the back room. Andrew slipped from the table and circled the perimeter of the dancefloor. He was about to head up the stairs when he saw them - Nicky and Neil. 

Nicky had both arms wrapped around Neil’s shoulders, trapping him against Nicky’s side. Andrew watched Nicky dump a packet of dust in his mouth before turning and kissing Neil straight on the mouth. Nicky wasn’t one for a closed-mouth kiss. Andrew met Erik enough times to know that Nicky went from touching to tongue in a second. 

Neil struggled, trying to resist Nicky’s advances. Andrew was about to intervene when the tense, hard lines of Neil’s body relaxed and he went languid in Nicky’s arms. Then he was kissing Nicky back - tongue delving deep. Nicky was surprised but pleased going by the way his arms pulled Neil closer. Neil broke the kiss and leaned back. He said something to Nicky that Andrew was unable to make out and then he headbutted Nicky right in the nose. The blood was immediate. Nicky was dazed and Neil followed the headbutt up with a punch to break Nicky’s bleeding nose. Nicky went down like a sack of potatoes. 

Andrew pushed his way through the crowd. Aaron, also watching the commotion from a distance, handled Nicky’s bleeding lip while Andrew dealt with Neil. Andrew would have retaliated, but Neil was justified in his actions if Andrew read the situation right. Andrew asked Nicky for an inch and Nicky stole a mile. 

Andrew went toe to toe with Neil and saw a familiar deranged brightness suffuse his eyes - lift his expression into one approximating mirth to the unobservant and hunger to the keen. A chill went down Andrew’s spine, raising goosebumps on his arm. Andrew knew what it was to share space with a predator. Andrew didn’t move, he just stood there, staring Neil down. Neil moved with the beat of the music, spasming more than swaying closer and closer until his back was pushed up against Andrew’s chest.

Andrew fingers clawed into fists, his biceps bulging with the restraint not to lash out. If Andrew was on his medication at the moment, the touch might have come to blows. Drunk and high on cracker dust, Andrew was just body blocking Neil as the freak practically gyrated against him. Andrew knew punching him in the face wasn't the best way to get his secrets, going by their first meeting, so stabbing probably wouldn't be much more helpful. Andrew barely restrained himself. 

“Isn’t this what you want?” Neil said in Andrew’s ear, his head thrown back to nearly rest on Andrew’s shoulder - his hot breath — “isn’t this why you brought me here? Your friend at the bar starts me off, your cousin warms me up, and you take care of the rest, right Andrew?”

That was enough. Andrew shoved Neil away from him. Neil caught himself before he fell, the good boots Andrew got him digging into the vinyl dance floor and finding faithful purchase. He looked at Andrew with manufactured surprise, like he expected Andrew to act but was impressed that Andrew actually put hands on him. A second later, those wide, doe eyes turned to ice, and Neil laughed coldly, as if so self-satisfied he couldn't help himself, so impressed was Neil by his own manipulations. It was easy enough to use Andrew's go-to brand of intimidation, invading one's personal space, against him and something in his changeable eyes told Andrew that Neil was willing to go much further. That the Foxes' newest striker did not adhere to any boundaries like those maintained by Andrew's multitube of intersecting deals. Andrew was only willing to go so far to get what he wanted. Morality was a weakness Andrew wore with self-loathing tinged pride and dressed it up like apathy, but caring was a weakness all the same. Andrew's kind of weakness was all too easily exploited once laid bare, and now Neil knew it. Neil maintained eye contact despite the flickering lights, his laugher having died off, a shadow of a smile of his face that didn't touch his eyes. Another of Andrew's techniques used against him by Neil Josten. 

_Damn rat-pain-in-the-ass-bastard. _

“No," Andrew hissed, "I want nothing from you except the truth.”

“Oh, just the truth," Neil laughed, genuinely amused, "nothing serious, then.”

Neil said nothing after that as if waiting for Andrew to laugh at his joke. Andrew has no time for levity. He needed to pin Neil down yesterday and this flirtatious act was a shot out of left-field, forcing Andrew to backpedal his plan and reevaluate with every step. 

“Tell me what I want to know and I won’t hurt you,” Andrew said. A basic, fundamental ultimatum, even the stupidest striker could figure it out. 

“I can do it rough, if fact, I prefer it that way,” Neil practically yelled over the pounding bass and electric dance music.

“You wouldn’t like my version of rough,” Andrew promised. 

“Oh Andrew,” Neil said in a peculiar tone, “that’s where you’re wrong.”

Andrew turned and walked away, back to the table. Nicky was pouting and pressing a bar rag wrapped around a handful of ice against his swelling lip. Aaron fussed over a bloodstain Nicky’s face left on his shirt. Kevin was back from the dancefloor and impatiently waiting for Andrew to get the second round. Andrew was eager to oblige. 

If Neil wanted to raise the stakes, Andrew was game. The runaway had no idea what he was getting into. Neil followed Andrew to the bar and back, his frenzied eyes locked on the back of Andrew’s head at all times. Frankly, it was unnerving, even for Andrew. 

“You shouldn’t have given me uppers!” Neil shouted at him over the music, downing Nicky’s shot, then Aaron’s. He went after Kevin’s and almost lost a finger. Andrew handed his snot over willingly. All the better if Neil was willing to make this easy for him. 

“Whatever happens tonight is your fault,” Neil told him in a grave tone. 

Andrew was well aware of that fact. He was going to get an earful of whining from Nicky for sure. 

“Slow down, Neil,” Kevin cautioned hypocritically, “have you ever been to a club before?”

Neil laughed in Kevin’s face, hard enough to send spittle flying. Kevin jerked away and almost sent his stool toppling over. He would have fallen if Neil didn’t linger forward and wrapped both arms around Kevin in an aggressive semblance of a hug. Slapped Kevin’s back hard enough to spill his drink. He whispered something in Kevin’s ear. Kevin’s face took on a ghostly quality. Andrew didn’t mind. Whatever it was, Kevin would tell him later.

“So let’s hear it, Neil - inquiring minds want to know - what’s your deal? Most of the team thinks you’re common trash like them, but I have a different idea.”

Renee saw in Neil the same coiled stillness she saw in the mirror, like a snake with colorful scales meant to distract while the poison set in. Andrew’s false face was brutality - Renee’s was piety. If Andrew had to hazard a guess, Neil’s brand was insanity. 

“I bet you do,” Neil crowed, “a hundred questions and not a single answer.”

"I know you're a liar," Andrew said, "but I'll take the rest if you're offering."

“Oh Andrew,” Neil crooned his name like they were friends, “you have made a major miscalculation.”

“Do tell,” Andrew said, blaming the drugs for his burning curiosity in letting Neil redirect the conversation. He had no doubt that Neil was trying to have him on to avoid pressure to spill his secrets but Andrew’s didn’t mind. It was a long time since anyone tried to meet him tit for tat. Andrew wanted to see what the coward was capable of. 

“Neil will never trust you, now.”

“Neil shouldn’t talk in the third person. It’s irritating,” Andrew said. _ And disturbing, _ he kept to himself. 

"I don't care about Neil's trust."

Neil just smirked at Andrew. Andrew was lost.

"Oh but you do," Neil said softly, "or why else would he spill his secrets?"

It was infuriating and the medication turned Andrew’s irritation into interest. Withdrawal turned his interest into an obsession. 

He wanted to know what the actual fuck Neil was talking about. 

"Perhaps, the threat of death?"

Neil threw back his head and laughed so cacophonously, so full of glee, that the people around them turned to stare. He kept laughing like he found a death threat to be the funniest joke he ever heard. The last time Andrew threaten Neil he got a good old _ fuck you _, a bravado for thinly veiled panic. Runners only ran to get away from the shit that was going to end them if they stuck around. Neil was so much a contradiction it seemed a caricature of personalities. 

“Why are you acting this way?”

The self-satisfied malice Neil exuded now was the opposite of the flighty energy pouring off the miserable loner Andrew was prepared to drug and interrogate. Nicky took it too far but Andrew did not expect Neil to have such an extreme reaction. The Neil Andrew remembered would have taken Nicky's advances until he got an opportunity to escape. Neil was acting like a completely different person who what Andrew understood him to be. Andrew wondered which version was the lie - if both were. The only thing Andrew seemed to know for sure was that Neil lied as easily as he breathed. 

“Careful, Andrew," Neil's voice was sing-song sweet under his flat stare, "I don’t want to fight you,” 

“Why is that?”

Neil leaned into Andrew’s space to whisper in his ear.

“You put on a nice show, trying to convince everyone that you're the villain. You can't fool me, Andrew," Neil gives him a quick once over, head to toe, and Andrew feels like he's already a body laid out on a slab. It felt like Neil was reaching inside of him and poking around in there to see what he could find. What he found was vulnerability hidden from everyone, even Aaron. Neil's smile fell off his face like it was never there, and he leaned closer, into Andrew's space. Neil's eyes were uncommonly bright and glassy under the fluorescents. Andrew's blood heated and he told himself it was the drugs. 

"I've seen evil, and you're pretty far from it," Neil cocked his head slightly, narrowing his eyes like he was realizing something. 

"You’re one of the good ones.”

Andrew meant to speak but he was paralyzed by the words - the concept. Andrew was ascribed many faults in his life, but goodness was not among the number. 

Neil was a liar, he reminded himself. 

“Andrew!” 

Andrew’s head turned instinctively at the sound of Kevin’s whiny voice. Andrew found Kevin safe and sound and slouched over a sticky bar high-top table. He was panicked about the first game of the season and venting his anxiety on the dead-horse of Andrew’s eating habits lately. 

When Andrew turned back, Neil was gone.

* * *

Junior shlepped his ass up the floors of the Fox tower on sufferance, exclusively. Junior got a long painful walk and a swift collapse on his dorm room bed. Neil was lucky - he wouldn’t remember leaving the club that night and getting back this morning. His memory would amount to walking up in bed with bloody feet and crippling muscle fatigue. Junior got maybe two hours of sleep before the presence of bodies around him dragged him awake. 

Junior opened his eyes to find Wymack and Abby staring down at him from across the room. The rest of the seniors were with them, standing in a loose semi-circle like a council of disapproval. Dan stood next to Coach and Abby. Matt and Seth lingered at the alcove of the kitchenette. Allison and Renee hovered near the door like they didn’t want to be there in the first place. 

Wymack spoke, arms crossed. 

“You were missing for a day and a half - care to explain yourself or should I just go ahead and rip up your contract right here?”

Junior could not give a fuck less about Exy but Wymack’s threat would crush Neil - Exy was the only good thing in Neil’s life. The only thing - period. 

“It took me a while to get back from Andrew’s horror show,” Junior said lamely. 

“Next time you call me for a ride - none of this loner hitchhiking crap.”

“I didn’t hitchhike,” Junior was certain, “I walked.”

“You what?” Wymack cried, appalled, “you walked fifty miles?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Junior snapped, “feel free to fuck off now,” Junior directed at Abby, venom rising from the pits of his chest and begging for an out. He stared them down and waited for them to leave. Nothing happened. Abby was wounded and Wymack looked furious and somehow heartbroken, hand firmly on his hips, face clouded over. 

“Watch yourself, freshman,” Allison snapped from the corner, all bluster and no substance. Renee put a comforting hand on Allison’s shoulder.

“Allison,” Dan cut in before addressing Junior, “this is the time to be proving yourself trustworthy Neil, not hurting your teammates,” she implored him, begging him to change to suit her immediate needs. 

“Be careful, Neil,” Wymack warned, “I don’t need another psychopathic problem child on my hands. Andrew is enough to deal with.”

Junior bit back the urge to character their misnomer. 

“Don’t I know it,” Junior said bitterly. Andrew was turning out to be a pain in the ass of monumental proportions. His little tests were a waste of Junior’s time. He thought the window threat would be enough to keep him down, but evidently Andrew had a stubborn streak. Junior could relate.

“Neil,” Abby cut in, “we need to talk about Nicky’s nose.”

“Broken, right?”

“Yes, it is,” Abby seemed upset. 

“Good.”

“Good?” Wymack took back the reins of the conversation, “that’s not the kind of response I’m looking for Neil. Don’t do this to me, kid,” Junior saw a hint of exhaustion in Wymack, a momentary drop of the tough Coach persona. 

Not so different from Junior and Neil, really. They just committed to their front, body, and soul. Or rather, Junior did. 

“Nicky stuck his tongue down my throat without my consent,” Junior said as Neil, “so I broke his nose.”

Wymack blew a long breath out of his mouth and rubbed his brow with two fingers. Abby blushed apologetically. Dan looked pissed, Allison and Renee standing with her now. Matt’s face was just sad. Junior made a point to keep an eye on Dan in the future. She could cause some problems for him if she decided to make a nuisance of herself.

“Damn, you laid the faggot out?” Seth rubbed his palms together, “that must have felt great.” 

Junior launched himself off the bed and at Seth, brandishing the knife he stole from Andrew. He pressed the skinny blade against the soft hollow of Seth’s vulnerable throat. 

“You aren’t going to say that word.”

“What word? Fa--

“What did I just say,” Junior split the skin under his new knife. Seth would need a stitch or two. Seth stared at Junior like he was daring him, like he didn’t really believe that Junior would hurt him. “Care to repeat yourself?”

“Neil, stop,” Dan tried to intervene but Wymack called her off. 

It was a stalemate. If Seth spoke, Junior would cut his throat. If he said nothing, he was submitting to Junior’s authority and would henceforth not be a homophobic problem, unless he wanted to get his throat slit. Junior didn’t do warnings - he was all about ultimatums. Black and white. 

Win or lose. 

“Woah Neil,” Matt grabbed Junior’s wrist and he was forced to drop his hold on Seth to avoid cutting Boyd. Neil liked him, and he hadn’t done anything to cross Junior - yet.

“Are you fucking crazy!” Allison snarled from across the room, her wrists restrained in Renee’s hold and Renee dragged her from the room. She thrashed and snarled like a wild thing, earning a second weighing on Junior’s threat scale for a later date. 

Junior was tired. 

“If that’s all, I reiterate: fuck off.” Junior went back to bed. He rolled over in bed and put his back to the door. 

Wymack and Abby left him alone with the seniors without another word. Dan followed them out. Matt tried to help Seth but he shoved the backliner off and stormed out of the room.

“You know you can rely on us, right Neil?” Matt sounded desperate, “we’re a team.”

Neil might be able to rely on them, but Junior should as hell couldn’t. He wasn’t part of any team, except Neil’s. Andrew was in for some serious trouble if he so much as glanced at Neil tomorrow. 

“I can’t rely on anybody. Can’t afford to.”

Not with Neil’s safety left down to him. 

Junior passed out in his bed and slept for fifteen consecutive hours.

* * *

Andrew used the yearly psychological evaluation as an extra therapy session. 

“Wait outside,” Andrew told Aaron when his brother tried to follow him into Bee’s corner office.

“What?” Aaron was incredulous and angry and for good reason. Andrew and Aaron have had join therapy sessions since they were twelve. Since Drake. Aaron was the only constant in Andrew’s life and a codependent one at that. Andrew shielded him from too much when they were growing up in the system. It was well past time to establish some boundaries between himself and his twin. Secrets were healthy. 

“Wait Outside,” Andrew enunciated slowly and condescending for Aaron’s benefit. 

Aaron scoffed and stormed out of the lobby, having the nerve to look wounded. He slammed the door behind him like a child. Andrew sighed. His twin’s propensity for throwing tantrums and running off was the reason he didn’t have a key to the car. 

Andrew knew that Aaron would hold this perceived slight against him, but not for long. His brother was to forgiving for his own good. 

Andrew went into Bee’s office alone. Her expression, when she looked up from her desk and saw him, was schooled. The psychotherapist in her was carefully not reacting to Aaron’s absence from Andrew’s side. Andrew sat in the armchair, his usual spot. Aaron liked to stretch out on the couch and pretend he was on a beach somewhere. 

For the first few minutes, Andrew said nothing. Bee was used to unexplained silences and didn’t push him to speak. Andrew considered the way he would approach Bee for professional insight. Andrew had been coming to Bee since juvie - was the one to recommend her services to the foxes when the last therapist quit. Their meetings were privileged. Andrew’s sessions with Bee were the only times in his life when he could speak freely, without concern of repercussions in one way or another. Bee would hedge and Andrew would have to read between the lines. 

“What does it mean when someone speaks in the third person?”

“Are we talking about anyone in particular?”

“In general,” Andrew replied. He wanted Bee’s untainted opinions, and he already knew she viewed Neil as an antelope on the sahara. Fast as hell but not fast enough to outrun the lion on its tail. 

“Well, most people that speak in the third person use it as a tool for humor.”

“And the rest?”

Bee looked suspicious but answered his question nonetheless. 

“There are a few incredibly rare psychological conditions that can cause the level of disassociation that produces third person thinking,” Bee explained, “but we’re talking one in a million chances, if not slimmer.”

Kind of like Kevin Day’s Exy career. Like being an identical twin that wasn’t separated by the foster system. Like getting recruited for college sports with a juvie record. Andrew did his best not to consider the statistics of his life. It only made his bad luck seem that much worse. 

“Do any of these conditions cover sudden and inexplicable behavioral changes?” 

So far, Andrew met two different versions of Neil. One was a whipped dog, and the other was the kind to do the whipping. Andrew needed to figure out which person was an act, and which was the real dead - perhaps both were an act. Regardless, Andrew had a Gordian knot of a conundrum and Bee was always good at unraveling those without resorting to cutting them in half. 

“A few personality disorders,” Bee hedged, “Andrew, what is this about?”

“Our new striker,” Andrew said, “is a little too unpredictable for a stable mind.” 

“Are you an authority on stable minds?”

“No, and that’s why I came to you.”

“I want to help you in any way I can, Andrew, but you know I cannot violate patient confidentiality. Yours or Neil’s.”

“You can if someone’s life is in danger.”

“Is that the case?”

Andrew hesitated. If he told Bee about the window, she would be duty-bound to tell Wymack. Neil would get sternly reprimanded or kicked off the team. Either way, Andrew would have to listen to Kevin’s incessant bitching. 

“Of course not, Bee. Everyone is going to be fine.”

Andrew knew it was a lie as soon as he said it, and that meant Bee knew it too. 

Whatever.

Andrew did his own research after that.

Took two google searches to land on multiple personalities. 

The sensationalism in media surrounding the topic is voyeuristic to the point of a borderline inappropriate obsession. Television shows, movies, and a shit-ton of books. The Youtube videos were the true jackpot. There were hundreds of individuals cataloguing the separate and isolated personalities in their heads. Andrew spent 24 consecutive hours watching real life footage of people genuinely diagnosed with DID dissociate between alters. Anywhere from one to thirty to a hundred and maybe more. The depth and breadth of change is profound, from the most fundamental components of personality to the background, history, personal interests, beliefs, likes and dislikes, and societal culture that is theirs alone. Tone of voice, posture, language, facial expressions, body language. Interests and personal histories and ages and genders varied in a million different ways. Varying degrees of self awareness and awareness of each other between the host and the alters, as well as between two or more alters.

Consistent behaviors uncharacteristic of the person in question.

Kind of like pushing Andrew out of a window. Neil Josten was too much of a coward for that, but an alter that found Neil’s things broken into - was another story, seeming all the more likley when considering Nicky’s nose. Andrew needed to drive him to the hospital and wait six hours for his nose to get reset. Listening to Nicky cry on the way home was twice as painful as any broken nose. 

The violence was fascinating and terrifying, considering he was potentially looking at Neil through this lens. 

Because the idea of Neil bopping him on the nose was absurd. Neil was barely able to live in his skin, he was not about to rub up on Andrew in the club - kiss Nicky after his cousin forced himself on Neil. He should that Neil - or maybe the alter - for punishing Nicky for him. He would have gotten a lot worse from Andrew’s hand. Nicky was so worried about but was also dead convinced that Neil was gay to the point of putting 200 dollars into the Josten Sexuality pot. 

“He enjoyed it,” Nicky said in fervently in German to Andrew and Aaron at practice, “I have a sense for this sort of thing. Neil was into it, absolutely.”

Except Neil went to great lengths to keep even his clothes from brushing up against anyone near him. Neil definitely did not want to be touched and that message was broadcast very clearly for anyone with even an ounce of compassion. Minimum safe distance for Neil appeared to be three feet, maybe a little more - about the average arm length of an adult male. The way he acted around Wymack was positively ptitful. If Neil was running from an abusive middle-aged man, chances are it’s his father. Which makes Neil a liar, and brings his reliability rating down to zero. The father, going by Neil’s lie, was either a millionaire or a broke deadbeat. Going by the money, Andrew would hazard a guess for the former if he weren’t still entertaining the possibility of Neil as a Raven plant. 

Andrew was getting too close to it. 

Stressors. Almost everyone in the videos, including some board certified psychiatrists, identified a key element of multiple personalities - stressor. Something traumatic enough to fracture someone’s psyche into pieces. Stressors can also facilitate dissociative transitions depending on the degree of awareness between the alters and the host, being the identity of the person they were before the trauma permanently changed them. Neil was his normal hostile self when they arrived at the club. Nothing changed in his moodiness that bordered on pouting - until Andrew had Roland slip cracker dust into his drink. Before Nicky gave him even more in the worst way.

This, Andrew could relate to. 

The stressor was the kiss. The violation overwhelmed Neil so the alter stepped in to handle it the way he so chose. 

Andrew remembered watching the tension in Neil’s shoulder’s melt away in a single moment, not to return. The way he didn’t resist Nicky, pulling him closer just to headbutt him in the face and breaking his nose for good measure. It was revenge for the kiss that showed a dangerously protective streak if what Andrew saw really was a dissociative episode - Neil’s alter taking control in order to get Nicky back for the non-consensual kiss. As for whether the alter enjoyed it, sex was the benevolent form of violence. 

Back at the table, Neil was completely different. Belligerent and talkative, flirtatious and cold. Neil’s closed off and tight-lipped face started with cracking jocks and that sinister smiling. Laughing, if a maniacal cackle could be called laugher.

Neil was harmless enough to be welcome in the Monsters, so long as he kept Kevin’s interest. 

Andrew had a nice deal all set up for Neil. 

The alter, if he existed, was going to need a different arrangement.

Andrew just needed a chance to have a civilized conversation with Neil.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Sexual harassment, sexual assault mention, swearing, nongraphic depictions of violence, 
> 
> This is probably the most slanted fic I've written so far in terms of the sensitive subject matter. I've chosen to represent a legitimate mental illness in a toxic light and I understand that may offend and hurt some readers. That is not the intention. Any direct value judgment placed on DID is due reflective of the unreliable narrator and not representative of my personal beliefs. 
> 
> For the content, I will be including what I see as major interactions along all three books, ideally. I have made some fundamental changes, like Andrew and Aaron staying together. Other changes will make themselves known as the story goes on. I have a rough framework of the overarching plot, but I have to fill in all the dialogue, which takes a lot of energy. 
> 
> I am focusing on FOTC and Darkest Hearts at the moment but I am interested in completing this story and I'll revisit in it my downtime. 
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Shtare


End file.
